


Itchy

by wrabbit



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: fic_promptly, Gen, Itching, Prompt Fic, Sickfic, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:34:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrabbit/pseuds/wrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The local insects love Kirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itchy

"Oww!" Kirk whined as McCoy pressed the cold pad to the worst area of sores on his belly. McCoy fell on his back beside him on the thin mattress, the severe slope in the middle causing them to lean together in the middle. He stared up at the insect netting, lit vaguely orange and red and green from the strange glass lighting fixture on the only table in the room, more sculpture than lamp.

He closed his eyes as Kirk beside him tried to twitch into a more comfortable position. Next door, something high pitched and warbly, like an old Earth tea kettle, began to play, the only kind of music he had yet to hear on this planet, by itself enough reason to have stayed away.

McCoy grunted a warning sound as the susurrus of stealth itching reached his ears. Kirk whined again, short sounds as his bug-bite ridden back rubbed against the bed. "Don't you have anything better for this, Bones?"

Batting the netting out of the way as he bent up into a sitting position, McCoy rolled his eyes at the man glaring up at him. Everything on Kirk from his hips to his neck and, more sparsely, from his knees to his ankles, was spotted with pink, inflamed bites, as though he were covered in nipples. He was naked but for a pair of gray thermal underwear that he had rolled down at the waist and up from the ankles to relieve his many spots.

McCoy glowered, knowing that Kirk knew that he had been repressing a smile. "Of course I do," he answered Kirk's question irritably.

Kirk looked bouyed for a moment.

"On the Enterprise, where we'll both be tomorrow, so shut up and get some sleep."

Kirk sighed as McCoy turned and lied down beside him again, wrapping a thin blanket around himself. A thousand pinpricks of itchiness were flowing up and down his chest and limbs in a slow, intermittent wave. Next door, the warbly squeaking music changed tracks to something thin and warbly with an intermittent bass beat.

As McCoy's breathing grew slow and deep and beside him, Kirk stared at the light flowing across the netting, the fingernails of one hand rubbing idly around a sore. He was startled out of his thoughts when the body beside him twitched suddenly as though in sleep. An assessing eye cracked open to stare at his hand still on his chest. "Ought to beat you," McCoy muttered, eyes already closing again. He was lying close enough for his hair to brush against Kirk's shoulder as he breathed.

"Will that help?" Kirk asked.

"Probably. No, don't. Go to sleep."


End file.
